musings & misunderstandings
by magma maiden
Summary: Nesia's endless thoughts and daydreams. A compilation of stand-alone drabbles and ficlets. Mostly canon. Fem!Indonesia.
1. oath & name

_Hetalia belongs to Himaruya, no material profit is gained from this fic._

 _This is a compilation of drabbles/ficlets which I've published in AO3 and Tumblr. It spans many AUs as well as canon. You can read each chapter as a stand alone fic. Nesia is my OC that I expanded from Hima's sketch based off Hetalia's personification concept and the actual country Indonesia. Minor adjustments are made for each AU. See chapter title for universe info._

* * *

.

.

"Who am I?"

Nesia closed the lid of a banana chips jar she was holding, with one of its contents hanging between her lips. Dark brown eyes blinked and stared at her ceiling fan as the woman pondered. "isn't it obvious?" she asked back, her smile widened to reveal her teeth. "I am Indonesia."

"But…" Nesia put down the jar on the table and sat, one leg automatically perched atop her seat. The other dangled in the air, her chin rested on her raised knee. "Now that you asked it… hm…"

For a moment there was no sound but the chips crushed between her teeth. Nesia finished her third chip before she spoke again, "My mind and my heart are my people. My actions are my government. My body is the islands. These," her left hand held several strands of her hair held by a rubber band, "are my jungles. The mountains my bones, the seas my blood, the muscles are my fertile soil.

"Most of my childhood memories went undocumented, save for the artifacts and lore preserved in the museums. Some are pleasant, some aren't. Perhaps… perhaps I have forgotten their names, despite my attempt to prevent that. Perhaps I do not know anymore what tongue they spoke, what kind of lives they experienced. It's… it's stressing to know that you can't remember your past…" Nesia took a glass of water and drank, her face somber.

In that moment, her animal companion decided to crawl in and laid his large body under her dangling foot. "Though I'm old enough to know that it's natural. Death is natural. All things have an end. I just need to look harder to find what can jolt my memories to my predecessors' pasts. An end doesn't equal to being forgotten." Nesia leaned forward to give her komodo a gentle scratch on his head.

"So, to conclude it," she straightened her back, a smile has returned to her face. "I am the blood and bones of earth, of Nusantara, successor of my countless ancestors, of a thousand kingdoms and culture… yet I am one. The pasts – mine and my predecessors – are unchanged, but the present and the future are mine. Mine to be shaped, mine to be written.

"A thousand names I bear, but I choose to be known as Indonesia among the nations. From 1928 until the world's end."

Indonesia took another banana chip, tilting her head and beaming. "That answers your question?"


	2. royals & realms

_standard disclaimer applies_

 _this speechfic was written to commemorate 2015 Kartini Day and Earth Day._

* * *

.

.

 _Perhaps you wouldn't believe me. But it's true. Embodiments exist. Ideas incarnated into flesh and blood, sustained by millions of humans. Ah, but it'd take long to explain how we came into being. Long story short, I was born long ago, when our country was hundreds of kingdoms co-existing. I borrowed names from my kinsmen until I obtained mine in 1928. The name I use until today._

 _I am Indonesia. I know, I know this is surprising. And I also know that some of you wonder why I look quite ordinary. If any of you saw me on the streets you wouldn't think I am different from the average Indonesian citizens. The same dark hair, the same brown skin, the same short stature and nose shape… none of you would mistake me for a movie star, right?_

(Nesia chuckled)

 _I have been wanting to say something a lot of things to you, people of Indonesia, as a personification of your country. Our existence is kept as secret, so this might be my only chance._

 _I love you. I've been loving you since you weren't born, before your parents were born. I love you when your ancestors lived under my kinsmen's names. I've been watching you grow from bleeding heroes to happy citizens. I spend all my days working for you. To improve your lives. My breaks are brief, my weekend spent to do more work and establishing ties with international community. Although this body can't get old, I am restricted within a boundary that restricts you as well. Which is time._

 _My days are twenty four hours each, my years are twelve months each. No more, no less. I can't run this country alone, and neither does my boss– your president. I wish I could fix all the problems by myself, but I do have my own limits. I can't be in two places at once. I need help._

 _I need your help._

 _I know you have your own lives to worry about. Your own family, your own job, your own house. I am not asking you to do big things, no. Just small deeds you can do every day. Throwing the trash into its place, recycling it, plant a tree, saying hello to people you meet daily. Do good to humans and nature around you. My our ancestors trusted our lands to us, so we can take care of it. So our children your children, will be able to live alongside the nature, in a healthy environment. We have knowledge, adat istiadat left by our ancestors and modern science to guide us in preserving Indonesian biosphere._

 _Our home. And its plants and animals. We have lost so many of them through excessive hunting, deforestation and loss of habitat. Yet there are unnumbered discoveries waiting out there. Waiting for us to see them, to understand them. To know what role they have in improving our lives. But in order to do so, we need to obtain higher knowledge._

 _Education is a necessity. Education is a right. I realize that our education system is not the best and has a wide gap in different regions. I ask you, I beg you women and men, to not neglect early education for your children and other children around you. Share a little wisdom, tell a motivating story, ask about their activities. You don't have to be a teacher or volunteer as one– although that'd be nice –but you can be a teacher for people around you. Make them interested in learning, not getting perfect grades. The children are my future. Our future._

 _If-we-sow-good-seeds-now-we-will-get-a-bountiful-great-quality-harvest-in-the-future_

(Her hand trembled)

 _We-can't-trust-all-the-problem-into-mine-or-my-boss'-hands-I-need-both-of-you-women-and-men-to-work-together-Especially-women-for-I-am-one-of-you_

(Nesia stared at her paper, her pen hanging just a centimeter above her crossed sentence)

 _And I am imperfect, none of us is perfect. Rather than striving to achieve superficial perfection, we should aim to be a better person; a better country for me. Improve our skills, cooperating to solve a problem…_

(She didn't know how to continue. Her words kept circling around similar areas and in her mind they were floating upside down, swimming aimlessly following the wind that changed its direction without prior notice. What did she want to say? What did she want her people to know? Words are words, and Nesia was sure some people already know this. Though she wondered why they didn't act. Maybe they were waiting for a right moment. Maybe they thought she wasn't worth fighting for.

But there were people who acted, and upon their hands she placed her hopes and dreams. Perhaps she did not have to speak directly like what she had written. Her thoughts and feelings had reached them through ways unknown to her. Nesia should trust them to bring her dreams into tangible reality and spread it so everyone else will help them.

Indonesia rose from her chair and crumpled the paper into a ball in her fist.)


	3. fate & fury

_standard disclaimer applies_

 _this is based on manor of fate, a nationverse/haunted house au rp forum._

* * *

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.

There is no fire purer than the one ignited by rage, straight from the melting core of this planet. Fire erases, fire cleanses. Turning all shapes, forms and colors into charred ruins. Burns away nightmares, pulling the poor dreamers forcefully back into bland reality.

Yet fire changed reality into a true hell as soon as it started dancing.

She stood far from the fire, watching the dance unfurls. The sky was clear, stars were seen. She prayed for a rainless night earlier. Usually she would welcome rain; she loved it. But just tonight, she wanted a dry windy night so the fire could dance freely.

So by tomorrow the nightmares would be no more, and the trapped dreamers could find their way out. The Manor's illusions couldn't put away true fire started by the blood and bones of Earth, fueled by many nations' hatred .

Indonesia knew her method was too violent, but after spending eons suffering as their toy, this is a satisfying payback. The Inhabitants had tortured many of her kin; the people who currently stood behind her. Destroying the Manor would prevent anyone to be trapped again like them.

"Let's go home," someone finally said after the Manor collapsed into dust. No one replied, they merely turned their back and walked away. Nesia, still in her panda costume she wore when arrived at the building long ago, was the last to go.

The nations might have destroyed their eternal hell, but the memories remained. They can't burn it. They can't forget it.


	4. rebirth & revenge

_standard disclaimer applies_

 _this is based off a nationverse/mutant au forum rp, memories remain. nesia is a human volcano here._

* * *

.

.

It hurts.

She might be fire made flesh but it hurts still. All the screams, cries and noise of people running to safety disappeared in a second, eaten by a blinding white light that erases every thing in its path.

The waters of Houhai Lake welcomed her in a thousand bits of charred skin and bones–ironically resembling her geographical home. Yet instead of lush green, she painted the lake in red and black.

She didn't mind, somehow. In death Nesia felt peace and bliss, finally able to rest from the hectic life she had going through since escaping her own home and her own people. And in death she could arrange a proper plan.

So when Nesia emerged alive from what was Houhai Lake once, clad in smoke and flame, she swore to never rest until her revenge is done. Anyone who laid a finger on her shouldn't escape unscathed.

She will find them. And she will burn them.


	5. bones & blood

_standard disclaimer apply._

* * *

.

.

"how did you… born?"

"I am made by my ancestors' bones and bathed with the blood of my fallen people. or perhaps I was born when someone thought, for the first time, about the chains of islands scattered on the ocean. time is weird, I remember many things but not my origin. perhaps I'll find out one day."


	6. red & white

_standard disclaimer apply._

 _for independence day 2015_

* * *

.

.

"why is it red and white?"

"because no matter what is your skin color, straight or curly hair, despite the languages your mother speaks, in the end we bleed red and our bones remain white. we are the same on the inside."


	7. flag & bamboo

_standard disclaimer apply_

 _for ri70_

* * *

.

today the bamboos are raised.

unsharpened, painted

their bearers basked in the dawn, barefoot and not,

a thousand smiles greeting the new day

.

today the flag is raised

with laughter and cheering, applause and glee

unlike the day it is first raised, accompanied by cries and the roars of our warriors

while our soil drinks their spilled blood


	8. i & identity

_standard disclaimer apply_

 _for ri70_

* * *

.

I am

the war drums that thrum before the knights

whose eyes see nothing but death and glory

.

I am

hopes and prayers spun by a pair of lithe hands of a maiden

who sings of the past, present and future

.

I am

the tears of anger and anguish

filling our rivers where the trees drink and grow along them

.

I am

the cold depths full of colorful angels

where dead bodies and old voyages mingle

.

I am

a rumbling volcano

whose roar silences the time and steals all the voices

.

I am

a bearer of a thousand names

a speaker of a thousand tongues

a dancer, a fighter, a master of a thousand arts

.

I am

a blank space

yours to be written, yours to be drawn

a handful of clay

yours to be shaped, yours to be colored

.

and I am a child lost in this jungle

so guide me where to go, tell me paths I have to take

don't let me disappear in the dark


	9. earth & hell

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

some wants me to rot in hell, burn in hell, throw myself into hell.

but oh honey, don't you know?

I have volcanoes in my body, along my spine, keeping me from crumpling on the floor like a hagfish.

.

I am the boiling earth.

.

I am hell.


	10. reap & nap

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

she

sits on her rattan chair like it's

a throne of gold,

woven with the hairs of earth and

a soaring hope of its maker

.

she

sips her poison like it's

a cup of coffee

made by an old woman on the streets

grown by an old man with tobacco between his lips

.

she

sleeps on the grass like it's

the most comfortable bed,

while in truth she just

missed her bus and

decided not to work today

.

she

only wants to dream of

a field full of

blossoming money flowers.


	11. haze & craze

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

but the stars are dead, my friends

and all I see is the thick veil of death,

choking,

blinds me with grey and ashes,

remnants of my dead trees.

.

I think I've disappointed my ancestors.

.

I am powerless before these greedy humans.

.

what a humiliation!


	12. unlikely & probabilty

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

how do you mend what's been broken since its beginning?

a fragmented existence, glued by saltwater,

clinging to an oath just to survive.

.

how do you build a nation when the foundation is chaos?

a resilient being, fueled entirely by passion,

holding onto an old grudge just to breathe.

.

"I am an unlikely," she says while cutting off a chunk of beef and threw it to her companion. "you are an unlikely too, buyung." nesia speaks as if he could hear her, he could understand her; but he's just a lizard and his existence isn't as complex as hers.

.

nesia turns her head and sets aside her knife. "what do you think?" her lizard is now busy with his food, leaving the woman alone. "am I still an unlikely, or your policies will sustain me for another five years?"

.

she is determined to hear the answer, whatever it is.


	13. drip & run

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

if a rock can be destroyed by the patience of the waves, then words too can disappear as the waves of time wash them over and over.

holding onto those ancient memories felt like clutching water in her grasps.

fading, fading, fading; despite her wish to preserve them.  
dripping- dripping, dripping; every drops run into the ocean and washed ashore in foreign lands.

"it has been seven decades and there are more than seven millennia of undocumented works…" nesia whispers to a bowl of meatball soup, her flip flops dangling on her toes. "do I have to look to the past, be in the present yet marching towards the future?"


	14. power & chaos

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

but simply being rich of culture  
will not make me capable to  
truly govern my country

there is power lying  
deep within and I need  
to reach and seize it

before I am gone and  
swallowed by the  
whirlwind of chaos


	15. tell & sell

_standard disclaimer apply_

 _set in tienv universe_

* * *

.

tell me about the shores and seas  
when they once warm and welcoming,  
tell me about the trees; coconut, teak, banyan and pines  
when they once tall and swaying,  
under the winds, under the winds

tell me about the plains and valleys  
when they once wide and calming,  
tell me about peaks of the mountains; burning in silence  
when they once real and rising  
bathed by the sunlight, under the winds

tell me about the adventures and old tales  
as they used to be sung and danced,  
tell me about the kings and queens; princes and princesses  
as the palaces used to be roamed,  
in the pages of history, under the winds

tell me about the heroes, the warriors  
as their roar once echoing,  
tell me about the great cities; with merchants and ships  
as their glory once captured in paintings,  
in the days of old , under the winds

tell me about the bright towers, bridges of steel  
and the roads with their steel horses running,  
tell me about the humans; smiling, crying, surviving  
growing hopes, fighting various battles  
in a thousand tongues they sing, under the winds

tell me about the land that once was,  
a thousand emerald islands scattered,  
the water that once was,  
salty blue and pristine,  
when I once was  
a mighty nation.

just so I will always remember my name.  
just so the world will never forget.

that I once was alive  
under the winds of monsoon.


	16. fire & wind

_standard disclaimer apply_

 _mutantverse; nesia - human volcano; amos - cendrawasih transformation_

 _featuring melanesianmale!indonesia_

* * *

.

whenever she's asked about her male counterpart, nesia would jokingly said that they are complete each other.

"I have the fire," she explained, "amos has the wings. together we are a dragon!"

then amos would ran a hand through his curly hair and calmly said across the room, "nesia, I am a bird."

"but it's still an awesome image!"

"…terserah, deh."


	17. thrive & survive

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

of all the tales untold  
of all the dreams scattered  
of all the songs forgotten,  
there is nothing that tells us about one entity who lives,  
who flourishes, who blooms,  
while the others knelt, died, end;  
and she simply clings to thin threads dyed by grasses,  
flowers, fruits; tigers and clams;  
she simply weaves and weaves and  
she never stops  
not even when molten rock and saltwater consume her **alive**


	18. cry & dry

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

there are times she feels she's unreal, there  
are times she feels like she's not fully present, yet  
there are times she feels she's omnipresent, but  
there are times she feels like everything is mere a dream, or  
she feels like a ghost long lingered in between, but

the harm she caused,  
the footsteps she left,  
the history she wrote,  
are too real for an imagination, so  
she can't undo, can't erase, can't hide; and

the blood is **dry**.


	19. soar & roar

_standard disclaimer apply_

 _reference from asoiaf_

* * *

.

I couldn't take my independence  
if it's handed over on a silver platter  
I had to earn it with my own effort  
so I established it with **fire and blood**

some try to silence me  
and end the life I barely started  
but I'm survive, alive and breathing  
and the world shall **hear me roar**


	20. sword & nation

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

you cannot sing praises to iron ores and expect them evolve into a sword.  
you have to heat and hammer it, bend and shape it, breathe a piece of your soul into it.  
bestow a name to it and  
let it taste its first blood in a trained grasp

then you may call it a sword.

or a nation.


	21. come & home

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

you could give up  
go  
turn your back  
run to your awaiting comfort  
live the rest of your short live unaware about my problems  
deafen your ears, blind your sight

isn't it the happiness you pursue so eagerly?

even if I want, I couldn't  
I am not made to give up  
it takes millions other cravens beside you  
to make me give up and  
laid down my crown,  
my life,  
one that I defended and fought for long ago

but, ah, does it matter anymore?

what is unity when you can't shut your hungry stomach?  
what is patriotism when the greedy is stealing what is yours by right?  
what are songs and colors when you hate me so?  
what is loyalty when betrayal is a common thing?  
what does my name mean to you, when you curse every being who walks on my soil and drinks my water?

but I couldn't give up  
even if sometimes I hate myself for being weak  
I couldn't disappoint millions who still  
place their high hopes on  
my small, sunken shoulders

you could give up  
but I'll be waiting  
for you to  
come home


	22. eternal & dead

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

"they are truly dead if I forget them."  
"they are alive."

she knows it is her duty to keep their flames alight and dancing. but it is so easy to get herself distracted; the whole world tempts her to explore every corner and meet every people.

"and that is why in this room you can't see the color of its walls."

every inch of said walls are covered with cloths; colorful and intricate. each bears its own story, its own life, its own name. one thousand cloths and none resembles another although they may look similar at a glance.

"yet," nesia lies on the floor, staring at the ceiling, "now I can't even tell anyone what lives they went through; time must have stolen my memories and I can't take it back, for it is not mine anymore to hoard..."


	23. scars & stars

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

"do you think it's hideous?"

with a towel wrapping her body from the chest to knees, nesia spun before the mirror. thick lines adorned her upper arm and a burn scar marked her shoulder blade.

"some say they are," she continued, half-humming, like a woman before a date with her lover; but the scars said otherwise. "some say I should conceal it not just with fabrics."

nesia picked up a dress with a million colors on it and changed her skin. this time she became a woman with a bowl of hope and dreams, radiating optimism despite her old wounds. "I don't think they are hideous," she sang to her reflection, "they are sculpted onto my skin and told many tales." done buttoning, she began to comb her hair. "they sing of my survival. they immortalize the times I was so sure Izrail would take me away but he didn't. they told the world that I could stand up again after being burned and beaten and slain."

"I am proud of them," she beamed, fixing her tied hair to make it dance while she walked. "I have no reason to hide my scars."

"and don't you think they look like the stars scattered all over the universe?"


	24. beast & inquiries

_standard disclaimer apply_

 _this is told from the pov of nesia's servant_

* * *

.

her first assignment is surprisingly ordinary. to help her senior maintaining a house owned by an esteemed figure in the government. cleaning, organizing, washing. starts from seven in the morning and ends by five in the afternoon. she doesn't ask who owns the house or why there is a komodo roaming the backyard. she is not supposed to ask questions.

but by the end of her first week, she finally meets its owner. the brown skinned woman is surprisingly ordinary; young, no older than late twenties, with an ever present smile and hair that gleams under the faintest light. "you may call me Nesia," she says, and they shake hands after the maid introduces herself. Nesia asks her many questions about herself, keeping their chitchat warm and lively, yet rarely she ever says anything important about her life. she doesn't mind, she's not supposed to ask questions.

but then she finds photo albums, and her curiosity is piqued. the young agent skims the albums, seeing the lady of the house is present in every photo, from the black and white ones to the recent photos depicting current events. and Nesia doesn't look a day older since the day her picture was taken with the founders of the nation. with a trembling hand, she returns the albums. she knows she's not supposed to ask questions.

but it is Nesia herself who speaks of the trouble in her maid's mind. "so you've seen them," she sounds amused, drinking her es cendol through a straw. "you have that look in your eyes, if you want to know why. your senior, my other maid, had the similar look too." Nesia takes a pause, laughing and fiddling her jasmine brooch. "I don't think you'll believe me if I tell you what am I, so take your own conclusion."

the women look at each other for a while, and the agent can't make her mind agrees to one conclusion. clothed with anne avantie's kebaya masterpiece and adorned with glittering emeralds, Nesia looks no different than any other women in the party she just left. yet at the same time, she sees a beast in that woman; a beast who has seen much, hears much and eats the worst things the earth offers. a beast who sleeps, who lies upon its family's corpses, who has been breathing before everything the maid knows sprung into existence. a beast who maims, who kills, who is wounded beyond healing.

the agent who works as a maid shakes her head, muttering an apology.

she's not supposed to ask questions, because she's afraid she might awaken the beast.


	25. mirror & horror

_standard disclaimer apply_

 _featuring aph america, historical_

* * *

.

there is a boy with a mirror.  
two mirrors.  
where she sees herself on their surfaces:  
worried and tense and anxious and if she has any option she prefers to be anywhere but being with this boy.

nesia pushed the pen on the table just ten millimeter away from the edge to keep the silence alive yet behind her the seams of the universe starts to shatter,  
and he hears and there's a crease between his eyebrows, a silent disapproval,  
although the lips under the mirrors stretched and curled upwards still

but the mirrors hide, the mirrors shield, the mirrors prevent her to truly know this boy.

[he is here to help me] says the woman to herself, tugging her bandages.

"so." he shifts, he runs a hand through his gleaming golden hair. "tell me, what does power taste like?"

she smiles as best as she can with her recently broken jaw. "power is power."

he grins, satisfied, and she feels a weight lifted from her shoulders.

[and power corrupts]


	26. greed & bleed

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

"And I can't understand it; I tried and I couldn't, for their claim is against the laws of earth, of skies and of seas that have been since long long ago when your ancestors walked with beings of myths and legends; why would they own a piece of land, a tree, a mountain, a lake, when they can just share-but no no no oh no they reek of greed and it stinks and I can't erase its horrible scent-they laughed at me, laughed laughed laughed saying I was a girl too naive to understand that some things aren't meant to be shared but don't we all need water and food from the soil, but they showed me papers papers papers and those papers were stronger than thunders than waves than rocks; and came the drought and diseases afterwards, so people suffer, and they crawled, crawled even though they were mere an inch from death with viruses eating their body inside out and they piled themselves up outside the fence that separated them from the lake-that-wasn't-theirs-anymore then its water changed into the blackest of black, while people who own and buy the lake water became addicted, addicted to it, they kept drinking and drinking and drowned themselves into it-bodies piled up inside and around the lake, I was left to watch the lake as the dead became dusts, and now it's clear blue again but the people with powerful papers came to buy it again, and I couldn't understand it, and I couldn't, why won't they just share?"


	27. trace & grace

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

it's her space  
it's her place  
where she walks in her own pace,  
a gigantic furnace  
yet as fragile as lace  
far flung islands spread like a necklace,  
but not a palace  
where many have gone without a trace  
and her presence isn't a grace,  
she's a fire made flesh on the surface  
going against the tides of time in an endless race  
consuming everything in her scorching embrace.


	28. bound & wound

_standard disclaimer apply_

* * *

.

"It never happened before."

A slash appeared on her palm, unfurling in eight directions like flower petals to show the redness underneath.

"I mean, it never happened before nineteen forty-five."

Her left hand was lifted to her chest level, keeping her blood from spilling to the floor. "These sudden wounds..." She went to the sink and washed her hand. "They were mostly unseen, away from mortals' knowing."

After bandaging her hand, Nesia took her kerupuk container to the dining table. Her TV was on, but it was silent. "At first I knew what happened-natural disasters happening around my land. Then came the mysterious wounds, the ones I didn't dare asking my boss if something had happened because he always said everything is fine, everything is fine, and I shouldn't be worried." Holding her fish kerupuk between her teeth, Nesia leaned down to pet her dragon-undoubtedly attracted by the smell of her blood.

"Later I understood that this is a feast of beasts," Nesia continued, changing the TV channels rapidly without paying attention before turning it off.

"And humans are the noblest and the worst beasts in the arena."


	29. unity & universe

_standard disclaimer apply_

 _english teaser for sulam semesta, my collaboration fic with crystallized cherry_

* * *

.

"I must go home,"  
"I must go home and fix this,"

she held the tattered coat like it's her lifeline–and it is, for the coat was her, manifested in threads and dyes, harvested from the myriad of corners that is her archipelago for centuries.

'you have to guard and take care of it' said her first boss, but clearly she was failed and nesia was determined to restore its glory, beauty, unity…

but the threads are choking each other, and their dying scream stirred storms outside her window–

.

–until it sank into crashing waves. far, far below the cliff.

"it's not your fault," the woman clad in brown commented, stepping around her tattered coat. "it's the coat's."

"should I wash it first in the waves?" but the female figure faded and the ground shattered and–

.

–she knelt on a scorching sea of black sand.

"you won't go anywhere by kneeling," said another figure; her skin was reddened by the sun. her shadow blocked nesia's vision from seeing the smoking mountain behind her.

"should I throw away all that is old?" she asked, but the sand melts into water–

.

–calmly washing gigantic granite scattered around her.

the third figure stood upon the glittering white sand. "drop the coat."

nesia did, and her coat began to absorb colors. the wrong one. before she protested, her predecessor had disappeared. so she grabbed her belongings and ran and ran and–

.

–she arrived at the sea of blady grass. the wrong color still dripping from the threads.

and he, sitting atop of a brown mare, lifted the coat high above his head. he was yards away from nesia, yet his voice rang clear in her ears: "chase me."

although choked by tears and thirst, she complied. she had to get the coat back!

the world rumbled. a herd of wild horses surrounded her, blinding her with red-brown dust, while the rider still yards ahead, taunting and waving her coat like a flag.

its colors wasn't red anymore.


End file.
